| How? |
| How’d he save Chiraq?
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| How? |
| Where’s my brother?
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| How? |
| Bitch, we been to war
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| I can’t, I dont talk that Chicago shit
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| I don’t know nun bout that
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| I know about everywhere I go I gotta have my muhfuckin' gun period
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| I know about **** big homie —
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| I don’t call them niggas, «Big», they ain’t my big homies
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| Them niggas ain’t never did shit but finesse me, for real
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| But what I’m telling you don’t get finessed
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| All them shorties that wanna beat a 100 — niggas up
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| Man, check niggas out
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| Come on, just think about it before you kill about it (Come on)
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| See what’s really 'bout it
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| Chill out and analyze, tell me how you feel about it (Feel)
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| But one thing about it, I’m really 'bout it
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| Did shit, ain’t trip about it, think about it, but we wasn’t just doing it to
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| anybody (Nuh-uh)
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| Nigga, you don’t get no points for no innocent bodies (Goofy)
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| Pussy, you ain’t even hear who you shot at (Pussy)
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| In the jam, he grabbin' a bitch to shield his body
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| All these new street niggas, they really rotten
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| Same niggas riding around, getting high outside, killed his bro with a smile,
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| niggas really plottin'
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| Lot of niggas 2019, getting killed with they partners
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| And niggas stories mixed with they body language, don’t be adding up how they
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| really rockin'
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| In that lil' pouch, is something, arm reach where my Glock at (I got that)
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| Streets got me paranoid, what you staring for, pacing back and forth,
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| I’ma need you to stop that
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| I could turn nothing to something, how you top that?
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| If I want something, it’s nothing, I could cop that
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| Humble, but you know my shit, I’ll pop that
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| Stand up straight in the Maybach, where the top at?
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| I’m inspiration for niggas who trappin'
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| Voice for the niggas who always get shot at
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| I’m living proof you can get off the block
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| It’s for every hood, I don’t care if you not black
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| Man, do not get finessed
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| Even the best get finessed
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| I got finessed, that’s why I am the way I am
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| I ain’t callin' muhfucker no big shit, big who?
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| Fuck
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| La Música de Harry Fraud
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| I been from the snake pits, to a lion’s den
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| I was in a Benz, riding with my friends
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| Riding with FN’s, cried with my mans
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| Lives in each other’s hands, this is not pretend
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| I ain’t playing with emotions, I won’t show my hand (Uh-uh)
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| Give the hustle my devotion, so I know I can (Yeah)
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| I ain’t dealing with promotion, just so they know what I’m sayin'
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| Need the back end, eight to four hours before the show when I land
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| I hit a bug before school, bought three bags of chips and soda in the can
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| Now I’m getting 30 a show and the strip club just want me to show for a 10
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| All these millions touch my hands, that’s from taking chances
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| Oh, they telling me I’m the man? |
| I ain’t even settle in yet
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| Gotta get a youngin' together, they starve on the regular, uh
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| I came from sparkin' competitors, my life was never no regular-degular
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| Way before records, etcetera, I was with felons and narcotic peddlers, uh
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| Tell them just weather the weather, the longer the storm then the better the
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| grass gonna grow
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| We was in the middle of wars, had guns on our waist, we was selling our bags in
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| the snow
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| But can’t live the street life forever, it’s bread or Berettas, I keep on
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| telling 'em
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| For my niggas in jail and who bitches stopped reading them letters but kept on
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| mailing them
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| Do this shit for the bottom, as long as I stay on top, I’ma keep y’all relevant,
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| uh
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| For all my lil one’s, all my friends and family, everybody I love,
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| everybody I call Blood, my people
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| Man, I catch y’all stupid ass out here tryna kick it on these blocks,
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| I’m hot poppin' out and hittin' you in your shit
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| If I love you, I’m hittin' you in your shit 'cause that shit over with
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| All them holes in the walls, all that weak ass shit where niggas putting them
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| calls through, texting, all that goofy shit, man
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| Niggas gotta play it by the rules, man
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| People that’s losing they life for shiesty shit cause niggas is scared,
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| niggas ain’t getting up tryna hit they man
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| Niggas shootin' some craps and all kind of goofy shit and I can’t be a hypocrite
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| I can’t, you know, talk about nothin' nobody doing, but all this shit is
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| cancelled
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| Summer is cancelled |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Summer is Cancelled , by - G Herbo. Song from the album Sessions, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп